Stage Banter: The Arena Stage Blog

Seed and Me

by Travis LeMont Ballenger, Arena Stage Special Projects Coordinator and Hip-Hop Theater Festival Assoicate Festival Producer

It isn't always that I find myself working on a show that touches me so deeply that I confuse it with my own life. I don't believe that every play has to deliver my own personal experience - we should seek to learn from other's perspectives. But there is something profound in seeing such a close depiction of your life performed. I've felt that recently.

I have the honor of working on Radha Blank's Seed, presented through the Hip-Hop Theater Festival at Arena Stage on July 13-14, 2011. Seed tells the story of a social worker who has to make some tough choices in a broken system. This play is important and to tell you why, I'm going to tell you the story of my own social workers and the people who saved me.

A bit of background information: my mother is mentally disabled. Stricken with spinal meningitis as a baby, she didn't fully develop and on top of that has extreme difficulty learning. My brother suffers from that same disability. When I was three, my father was incarcerated for a myriad of reasons. He remained in prison until I was twenty. The first time I met him was my sophomore year of college. To make ends meet, my grandmother took care of the family when I was young by working third shift cleaning laundromats.

In third grade, I met a girl named Chantel. Chantel scared me. I knew that she lived in an orphanage and that was weird. I found Chantel angry and mean. One day, Chantel called me a name and I called her one. I then made fun of the fact that she had no parents. Chantel cried. I cried.

Until I was a teenager, I thought that if I told anyone about my home, I would be taken away and become Chantel. I was petrified. Because my mother was on welfare, I received free lunch at school and was considered "at risk". All of the severely "at risk" kids were forced to meet with a social worker every Wednesday after school. We would load up in a white van and go to the local courthouse where we would be helped with our homework and talk about being good people in the community. They took us on trips to WNBA games and we had lunches with upstanding citizens of the neighborhood. I would have been humiliated if any of my friends knew what I did after school on Wednesdays, but, honestly, those moments were some of my favorites. I got to be smart and people told me so. These women listened to me. They allowed me to think. 

I was crushed when I entered high school and was no longer eligible to meet with the social workers. My life quickly spiraled out of control until I was rescued by a fearless drama teacher and a wise guidance counselor. These women worked hard to get me away from my abusive drug addicted uncle and into a boarding school that allowed me to continue my passion for theater.

Lately, sitting in rehearsals for Seed, I've been transported to those moments with my social workers. There's a scene in the play where Anne, the social worker, speaks with Chee Chee, the little boy, and in Radha's wonderfully poetic way, they discuss the importance of questioning everything. I remember having that exact conversation with one of my social workers.

Sometimes the theater is too easy. It becomes a place for us to go and escape the world. While that's okay, it's not a steady diet. You can't eat potato chips all the time. Sometimes you need greens and meat. This play is greens and meat. This play forces you to take notice of these marginalized people.

For me, the most important aspect of this play is that it reminds us that we know very little about the people around us. A person's appearance, walk, or voice could say very little about their hearts and minds. It also reminds us that these children exist and that we forget about them at our own peril- and theirs.

We live in a world where the "at risk" son of a mentally retarded mother from a broken home can work at Arena Stage as a producer on a play about an "at risk" son of a distracted mother from a broken home. Now isn't that something?

Come see Seed. It'll be good for your soul, feed your mind, and, hopefully, awaken your heart.

A Year in Review

by Jamil Jude

I guess the old adage "time flies when your in the crazy world of theatre" really is true. I can't believe that I've been with Arena Stage for over a year now. On August 31 I celebrated one year at Arena. After graduating Colgate University in the Spring of 2009 I was selected as the 2009 Allen Lee Hughes Fellow in Casting. It what turned out to be the best job I could ever imagined, I received a crash course in theatre, and loved every minute.

Within my first month at Arena, I was tasked to help set up the Open Call for performers in our production of Sophisticated Ladies. What a first task it was! With a stack of over 300 headshots/resumes, I surgically attached a phone receiver to my ear, made calls, fielded inquires and compile an audition list for Mr. Maurice Hines, Mr. Charles Randolph-Wright and Mr. Daniel Pruksarnukul (Arena Stage's Artistic Associate: Casting). I was so nervous the first day of auditions. I could only hope that all the work I put in the weeks prior would be pleasing. After two intense days of session, we walked away with some solid talent and everyone was pleased. Little did we know we would continue casting Sophisticated Ladies until the final curtain went down this summer! From that experience, I developed a solid relationship with both Maurice and Charles.

A few months later, in November, Dan granted me another amazing opportunity. Our Production team felt a little shorthanded for Lydia R. Diamond's Stick Fly so Dan volunteered me to step in and fill the void. Through that process I learned how a professional rehearsal process was run, worked with a TALENTED stage management crew (Angelita Thomas, Jenna Henderson and Shaun Hart), and developed strong relationships with the entire team.

In 2010, Dan really focused in on teaching me how to run a casting office. We did the bulk of our 2011 casting during the first 6 months of 2010. On a few occasions we went to New York but we primarily focused on our DC talent pool. I've really enjoyed getting to know the DC talent and have been so impressed with the wealth of talent we have locally. 

As sort of a "final exam" of sorts, I helped the Community Engagement department with the casting of their annual Student Playwright Project. I learned so much about how to facilitate a casting session from that opportunity. I gained a lot of respect and a completely new perspective on the casting process.

I continued with my Casting Fellowship until mid August and I officially started in my new role, New Ply Producing Fellow, this week. It has been quite an exciting ride up until this point and I look forward to what the next 12 months have in store!

I'm Checking Out on a Hot Note!

By Karen Lawrence, Assistant Dramaturg for DUKE ELLINGTON'S SOPHISTICATED LADIES

As the Sophisticated Ladies rehearsals come to a close, I find myself slipping into a sentimental mood indigo.  Having the super ducky opportunity as assistant dramaturg for the show has made me feel quite the lucky so and so and has, in a sense, given me something to live for. (Sorry, I've got it bad for Duke references.)

When I first started this assignment, I didn't quite know what to expect.  This show would be a horse of a different color (indigo!).  It's more of a musical revue than a musical with a plot.  Basically, the music and dancing would create the story.  So what exactly would I to do?  To begin with, I assisted Amrita with a lot of the research for the actors' packets.  That experience was educational in itself, because I learned who Duke actually was.  I'd only heard of his name and I knew he had something to do with jazz, but I had no idea how much a musical beast he was.  It was also fun researching the dances of the 1920's- like the Charleston, which looks very much like "the Spongebob," a dance these young kids do today.  Even more fun was looking up 1920's slanguages.  A real copacetic bees-knees zoot suit riot, daddy-oh!

This gig even came complete with field trips!  We took a tour around U Street, starting with the Lincoln and hitting certain places specific to Duke Ellington.  He lived in three different houses, all on the same block- significant places to the black community.  One interesting thing I learned was that the Harlem Renaissance actually began in DC first before the black literati and others made the mistake of moving to Harlem.

Another exciting field trip was one Amrita and I took to the Museum of American History's archives, in which we perused a bunch of brochures and pictures and programs from Duke's life.  We even found a napkin with his real handwriting!  Wonder how much that would go for on eBay?  Also, I had to look up information for specific things that we normally wouldn't have thought of.  For example, if in 1950s London, would people going into clubs get their hands stamped like they do today?  I also researched popular clubs in 1920s DC and New York, among other things.  Of course, the most fun and rewarding part of this experience was being around the performers and hearing their stories.  All of them are very sweet and amazingly talented.  I had fun rockin' in rhythm during rehearsals as they danced, pranced, piroutted and hoofed.  It made me feel like I could dance.  And now I'm inspired to tap.

So in a hot note nutshell, this experience was more than cool.  It was kinda Dukish.

 "Duck" Ellington

and his sophisticated ladies...
 
 

"Here's what I don't get"

by Jamil Jude, Allen Lee Hughes Casting/Production Fellow 2009/10

[Editor's Note: This post is part of a series, which I am going to group under the category "Young, Gifted, and Black @ Arena" so that you can read the whole thing easily. It is comprised of a series of posts by a cohort of young black participants in this year's Allen Lee Hughes Fellows program. We've asked them to share their experiences all year, and in particular to document their developing understanding of what they are calling "Black art" as lensed through the experience of their Fellowship season.]

Emerging out of the tech process for Stick Fly to wish you all a very happy New Year and share with you a few thoughts I have.  What started as a conversation between me and my friend Jordan, then turned into a post on my personal blog, I now bring to you all, our loyal Arena Followers.  I need you all to help me answer this question: "What am I supposed to do...?" 

In the Actor's Packets, a series of articles and information compiled by our dramaturgy department and given to the cast, there are a few articles that had an extreme affect on me.  Some of the articles spoke to achievement gap issues, race inequalities, black elitism and other relevant topics.  Those articles, in combination with my own personal issues around these subjects, led me to ask the earlier basic, but bewildering, question along with other thorny issues.  One of those issues, Black Elitism, is a very troubling idea to me.  Does it exist?  Should it exist?  What should Black Elitist do?  Who is in the Black Elite? 

The Black Elite is a very small group in America.  Marginalized both by minorities and by the majority classes, the Black Elite struggle (oh the irony!) to establish themselves as a legitimate socio-economic group.  Like any other upper-class demographic, they are very exclusive.  In his book, Our Kind of People, Lawrence Otis Graham talks about this widely over-looked class.

Although I can NEVER be a member of the Black Elite, as a college graduate and as someone who has a little social capital, I am in a very precarious situation.  The articles that the Dramaturgy department brought up, primarily come from the Journal of Blacks in Higher Education, talked about the lifestyles that educated black people live.  They presented facts about the jobs they choose, the money they earn/spend, and with whom they marry.  The last fact, to whom college-educated, black people are married, was the one that struck me the most.  The article said that black people like me, are almost twice as likely to marry interracially than black people who don't have four-year college degrees.  That article was coupled with excerpts, from Graham's brook, about Jack and Jill and other anecdotes about Black Elitism.

For those who do know, I apologize, but I do want to spend some time on Jack and Jill.  Founded in 1948, Jack and Jill of America, Inc. was established to give children of black ,upper class mothers, a medium in which they can socialize and meet other privileged children.  Although much has changed since its founding, Jack and Jill still serves the same purpose.

Now here is what one of Stick Fly's characters calls "a grand mindfuck"!  Since Jack and Jill is a group for upper-middle class to upper class black mothers and their children, the group would seemingly exclude non-Black mothers (some chapters may have non-Black mothers as part of their membership, but it is rare).  Children who are born into these upper-middle/upper class families are more likely to attend prestigious/private/elite four-year colleges and universities.  Remembering our previous fact, that college educated black people are more likely to marry interacially, one can begin to see a budding problem.  So again, I ask my question, "what am I supposed to do?"

I happen to to be a graduate of an elite, four-year institution.  Furthermore, I am a member of Jack and Jill.  Although my family doesn't fit the Jack and Jill mold (single parent, hovering around lower to solid middle class, West Indian heritage) my children, by virtue of my involvement, will be Jack and Jillers.  If I become one of the black people who choose to marry interracially, will my wife and kids be accepted into the clique?

I'm not really sure how I feel about it all.  It seems to me now that being Black and educated is more of a conundrum than one may believe.  At every level, there are interesting challenges and questions.  Being around this play and reading these articles prompted my inquiry.  My inquiry started my conversation with Jordan.  I started writing the blog post on my blog on December 15th, but finally finished it, on New Year's Eve.  Even now, after writing this post, I'm still struggling with the complexity.  It is all so sticky!

All I want is to be happy.  I want to have a healthy marriage, beautiful kids, and a rewarding career.  I want my family to feel accepted wherever they are.  It seems like, if I want my kids and wife to enjoy their Jack and Jill experience, or any other experience for that matter, my wife will HAVE to be Black.  While I love Black women, I mean LOVE them, one of my most rewarding relationships was an interracial once.  I don't know who I will marry, but whomever I choose, I just want to be accepted.  Yes, Marriage is still some time away for me but that doesn't stop my mind from wandering.  I'm constantly surrounded by, reminded of and bothered by the subject.  I tell you, it's all one grand mindfuck!

As the black voice...My Ventures to Black Theater

[Editor's Note: This post is part of a series, which I am going to group under the category "Young, Gifted, and Black @ Arena" so that you can read the whole thing easily. It is comprised of a series of posts by a cohort of young black participants in this year's Allen Lee Hughes Fellows program. We've asked them to share their experiences all year, and in particular to document their developing understanding of what they are calling "Black art" as lensed through the experience of their Fellowship season.]

By Travis Ballenger, Senior New Play Producing Fellow

As you may know, I've been traveling around a bit discussing Black Theater. I'm attempting to learn about the ecology of Black Theater from the major players. In January, I am line-producing a symposium on Black American Playwrights and the new play development infrastructure. We are focusing on the issues facing these playwrights. I'm particularly interested in what stories they feel they are allowed to tell.

I've learned a lot over the past couple of months. Some of these ideas are new and I'm trying to find ways for them to fit. Others, I've heard a thousand times. Here are some of the issues, as I've heard them:

Being Black in a LORT World

Speaking with some Black theater professionals, I've heard that Black playwrights have difficulty maintaining their voice in a LORT theater world.  The argument has been made, mostly by Black theater artists, that theaters have a difficult time understanding, artistically, what to do with their shows. I've heard the complaint that LORT theaters take a play by a Black playwright with an all black cast and hire a white director, white dramaturg, and white designers. The artist has to fight to have Black people on the creative team. There is the argument that without a black creative team, you lose the 1st voice, and risk missing a certain level of authenticity.

Why my art is deemed BLACK ART… And why I don’t mind…

[Editor's Note: This post is part of a series, which I am going to group under the category "Young, Gifted, and Black @ Arena" so that you can read the whole thing easily. It is comprised of a series of posts by a cohort of young black participants in this year's Allen Lee Hughes Fellows program. We've asked them to share their experiences all year, and in particular to document their developing understanding of what they are calling "Black art" as lensed through the experience of their Fellowship season.]

by Raymond Caldwell, Allen Lee Hughes Community Engagement Fellow

“What comes forth from you as an artist cannot be controlled. But you have responsibilities as a global citizen. Your history dictates your duty. And by writing about black people, you are not limiting yourself. The experiences of African-Americans are as wide open as God's closet.” ~ August Wilson

As an actor/playwright/director I hold one tenant to be truth in terms of the art I create: the imagination is limitless, the more experiences one has, the greater the ability. The stage artist is one who can tap into these experiences and decipher his imaginations with child like curiosity and fearless playfulness. With that being said, when I think of my process as an artist, I’ve realized that I can only draw upon that which is within the realm of my own experiences. Thus I love working with children! The awareness and yet playfulness with which a child sees the world is inspiring. Have you ever tried asking a 6 year old to imagine something that is not within the realm of his or her experience? It’s impossible! They’ll look at you blankly and inform you that they don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!

So my art is deemed black art because being black is within the realm of my experiences, and plays a large part in who I am. Every character I create, every play that I write or direct is naturally infused with this “blackness.” This doesn’t define me, but it plays a major role in my life. And I must say that I am proud of that! I am part of a legacy of black artists, and it is because of THEIR art, that I can create MY art. August Wilson understood this, and thus wanted his work to be directed and performed by only black artists. At the root of the work is a cultural understanding or cultural experiences that no amount of research can ever contextualize. How do I explain to a person outside of my race what it was like the first time I was called the n-word. There are no words that can explain that feeling or that experience. You might sympathize with me or want to understand that feeling but at the core it is a cultural understanding, and can’t be intellectualized.

You are what you are? Or are you?

[Editor's Note: This post is part of a series, which I am going to group under the category "Young, Gifted, and Black @ Arena" so that you can read the whole thing easily. It is comprised of a series of posts by a cohort of young black participants in this year's Allen Lee Hughes Fellows program. We've asked them to share their experiences all year, and in particular to document their developing understanding of what they are calling "Black art" as lensed through the experience of their Fellowship season.]

by Jamil Jude (Allen Lee Hughes Casting/Producing Fellow)

One of my friends, in one of her more facetious moments, reminded me that "you are what you eat." At the time, I was devouring a bacon hamburger, so she proceeded to call me a "cow-pig" for the rest of the day. To her, it had meaning, to me, it just hurt. Her little jab at my eating habits did make me think...no not about my eating habits (those will never change) but about theatre (what else?!). Are we what we are?

I know that question is a little weird, and phrased wrong (the English major in me is DYING), but bear with me for a second. August Wilson is a Black playwright, yes? Is it because he writes about Black life and has Black characters in his plays OR is it because he IS Black?

In Play Club, a play reading club at Arena Stage, we discussed this topic a little bit when talking about Jane Chambers and her play Last Summer at Bluefish Cove. The question was asked, "Is she a feminist, lesbian writer?" Through much debate, the overall consensus was, "if you write about it, then that's the type of writer you are." Well, now if that isn't troubling, I don't know what is.

Many of you know I am writing a piece that revolves around a Black, Jazz instrumentalists and a lesbian love story. Does that make me a Black Lesbian writer? I can see my headlines now, "The Black, Lesbian playwright, Jamil Jude..." That's a little weird...

I say all that to say this, I don't think we can label someone's writing in a set way. Just because I am Black, and I write about Black people, doesn't make my art, Black art, doesn't make a Black artist. Although I do define my art as Black art, an artist should not be boxed in and labeled as such, UNLESS they deem it OK.

Let's be careful how we box artists in. An artist, as well as everyone other person in the world needs to be able to define themselves, not have society make that determination for them. So do us all a favor, let the artist be who they want to be!

-Jamil Jude